A Perfect Circle
by Verdot
Summary: A risen flower. A not quite dead general. Jenova. Possession, obsession, and all the fun things that come with it. An Aeriseph and ARF. For Aeri, and the crazy kids on the fanfictionpoint7 forum. May the gods of canon not strike me dead.
1. 1: The Noose

**Chapter 1 – The Noose**

There had been pain. Not so much physical as the very _wrongness_ of it all. All before had been cloudy and unclear, but now, now it was so sharp and vivid it hurt.

The very first sensation was drowning. Water in my lungs, all around me. I wasn't even sure how I knew the word, _water_. It was then that I realized that I was a thinking and sentient being, not a part of the vast _collective_ that I had floated in just moments before. Planet. Gaia. The amount of knowledge slapped me in the face, dragging me down into the darkness.

I wanted to stay this way... couldn't I just stay dead! No no no no... I hadn't asked to come back, I wasn't being called on a quest of any sort, there was no _purpose_ for me this way. It was the end, the end of her days, not the beginning.

But the body betrayed me. Preserved in the fact that it was steeped to the marrow in ancient magic, my mind was human and frail. My body was as old as time while dead, but now it was connected to the primal and human parts of my brain.

It wanted air. It wanted to live.

I was on the forgotten shore; in a place that I knew wasn't where I should be. No ancient structures, no decaying art and architecture. My tomb had expelled me, along with whatever feeling I had of unity, of purpose.

I felt like I was burning. And with that sensation, I knew one thing had to have happened for me to be this way. One thing that would have brought me to tears if I'd been a fully feeling... human? No, I wasn't human. What _was_ I?

I wondered how many had died so that I might live. Resurrection is a thing paid for in blood. Not just the blood of one, but of many. And then, as I focused more on my surroundings, began to wonder why I knew all this.

_Residue of knowledge, wisdom left from fools passed..._

Memory. Memories of life, unlife, and the agonizing time in between. I was wise only in that I'd been immersed in wisdom; I was wise only in that I'd been a part of something wiser... without it...

I decided to observe my surroundings, now that the water had released me. Though that meant I was slowly burning due to... sand? I was on the coast. Hadn't I been somewhere more interior? Where was that feel of belonging, that utter sense of heritage?

This beach, it had a name, and it echoed in my mind like a breath. _Junon_. I remembered this place, I had been here before. A dolphin, a monster, a little girl... I had to hold onto myself in order to keep the waves of memories from washing me away.

And those eyes. Those _eyes_.

I couldn't remember who had been friend or foe. I remembered faces, names, places, conversations... but those _eyes_. On two different faces. Which had destroyed me?

I glanced down at my hands as they clutched the fabric of my clothes. Memory told me that I was covered in one color... but now, from the sea salt and the red mud of the bottom... My dress was a filthy white, stained in patches that were sometimes blood and sometimes the dirt of the ocean's floor. As I had bled, the Planet had bled with me. I had bled out all my pink.

I thought it would protect me. I thought _he_ would protect me. I thought nothing would harm me...

It was then that they found me, sobbing like child into the sand, my wet hair curtaining me against the sun. Strangers, but kindly older people nonetheless. I was glad that it wasn't anyone that I knew. People had to die so that I might live, people had to die...

I felt hands, pulling me up, and dragging me away from the shore. I wanted to grasp out to the ocean, my resting place, my peace. I couldn't be, this couldn't be, these people, they didn't find me, I wasn't struggling...

My name. My name... is Aeris. I, Earth. A name I would go by no more. For now, I would be Manakel, for the oceans that cradled me. Why take the name of something that had forsaken me?

* * *

AN: Well, I never thought I'd do an Aeriseph. I'm actually rather opposed to the idea. And the idea of an Aeris Resurrection Fic... so I decided to take all the things that annoyed me about such stories, and not do them. Write it _my_ way. Not that every Aeriseph is crap (Solain Rhyo's damn good, and Chocobogoddess makes me smile despite some cliches, and Reno Speigel just pwns on that one.) But Aeri said she wanted one, and she's such a sweetheart and all, and I figured if I made her a story, she'd be happy. I intended on some sweet little one-shot too... but then there was some discussion on the fanfictionpoint7 forums.. and ya. I was inspired to write this piece of work. So far, four chapters, and it will grow. You forum people, this is what happens when you give me an idea. Don't say I didn't warn ya! 

/end overly long AN. The others will be much, much shorter.


	2. 2: Judith

**Chapter 2 – Judith**

I was beaten. Even I am not one too proud to admit that. I was cut down, slashed and torn into something I knew I had been too good for. Even when I was that. Human.

But I had not died.

In that very fact, I was the more intelligent. I may not have proved to have been the stronger, but I would fix that soon enough. My very honor was at stake. I may have been beaten once, but I will never be beaten again. Not by puppets, clones, or Mo—Jenova.

So that was the chink in my impenetrable armor. I should have known.

But for now, I had to wait. This stasis that bordered on unlife tingled from my toes to the barest tips of my hair. Electrifying. Ironic that the Lifestream that rejected me is what nurtured me now. Slender tendrils of green purity... I could see why the weak would make a religion of it.

I could not move for a long time. In such a time when the body repairs and purifies itself, a man can do a lot of thinking. Had it been another time, or I another person, I would have cried and broken down into bitter tears of remorse...

But I, _I_ am not that man. As long as I remained like this, as long as I _knew_ what purpose I had been fashioned for... I would not repent. I had nothing to repent. Nothing to repent to. I would take whatever I needed from the Planet, lovely Gaia, and be off on my own. On a... mission, perhaps?

I _would_ be the last thing the puppet would ever see. A toy that strikes its master cannot be allowed to run free when its strings are cut. And now knowing what a toy it was... I would not use it any longer.

And once Strife was dead? I still had to think on that.

I first had to be able to move my limbs. And stop the buzzing in my head. From _her_. Despicable creature that she was. Tried to take full control on numerous occasions... I still maintain the upper hand.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm cleansing myself of her. The fact that Strife and even Valentine still contain her will prove to be my advantage. I will be a free agent, superb and strong from the wash of the Planet. Funny how that was my intent in the first place.

Though, admittedly, my idea would have been far faster and strengthening. This was taking a veritable eternity. _She_ could still try to infect me, slimy tentacles of knowledge in my waking brain.

_Son, my beautiful son..._

I have no parents. No kindred. Even the Cetra, inhuman as they are have been obliterated. I couldn't help but smile to myself at that thought. That was _my_ doing, not Mot—Jenova's. I was not "mad" either, to have done such a _grave_ sin, under Gaia's terms.

Gaia left her, weak little flower, out for me. Thought _I_ would take the bait, no doubt, would let her talk her silly little girlish tongues at me. Make me _repent_, and follow her around starry eyed like Strife, Lockhart, and the other fools. That through that abomination that humans call love, I would turn away from my plan. Away from Jenova.

It was then that I realized that the planet, that _Gaia_, was essentially human. What a bothersome revelation.

Nothing would ever be capable of understanding _me_. Not if it existed on this damned planet. Funny how I didn't feel the slightest twinge of loneliness at the notion. I had already consumed something that I had once desired; taking life means taking utterly.

There was a contentment in sliding the sword through her flesh. Watching her go limp. Undeniably beautiful and fragile... forever _mine_ because of that simple motion. I'd always meant to deliver that blow... Strife's stunt was simply a red herring.

_I could take that away, insolent child..._

But I made to ignore her. It had been years, that I knew I'd watched the stars, since that grand battle. And I was yet again reborn, despite not having been dead all this time. I had not felt that _presence_ in all these days and weeks and months... it had been so strong a thing when I had first detected it. And still pulsed within the very fiber of the Lifestream...

Sephiroth. Tree of life. What a bothersome title from such a short sighted man. I am Azrael, for my divine purpose. Why deal in life, when you can possess in death?

* * *

AN: No, Sephiroth's not repentant. Nor is he going to cry at _any_ point in this story. I warn you, if you're looking for the basic fluffy Aeriseph, turn back now.  



	3. 3: Blue

**Chapter 3 – Blue**

It took me three years to fully become functional in the world again.

They cut my hair, though they were being kind and trying to help, I had cried over it. Three years hadn't been nearly enough time to grow it all back; it used to graze the tops of my ankles when lose. Now it fell somewhere mid-back; they'd cut it so short when they did. I looked like scared young boy during those beginning times.

Funny, how I could grieve such a vanity.

Things had changed considerably in the world. I still had yet to figure out what had caused me to come back into existence, but I tried not to let it bother me. Normal, I was normal now. No more prayers, no more portents... I was attempting to be human now. I worked at a mill, making flour for a small community outside of Kalm.

I didn't try to find them. Any of them.

Once I remembered their names, a hope and love rose within me. I had only known that little team for a short while, but they had all adopted me, in their own ways... and my memories of them had been pleasant, despite the danger and intrigue. Isn't it the duty of the prodigal daughter to come home and be greeted with open arms by her worried family?

Then the other memories came. Of the Watcher times. While my spirit intermingled with that of all of Gaia, where I learned a great many things. Where I lost a great many things.

No more prayers. No more genuflection.

I realized it was better for them to not know; they had relied on my sacrifice to strengthen them. Even... he was beginning to move on. I saw with my own live eyes just a year ago.

I saw his children. Two; a girl and a boy. Oddly Wutain features mixed with his. Beautiful children. I'd never been able to bear any, even before resurrection.

When I saw that, I calculated how long it had been since... they had defeated him. Since they had freed the world of that curse. Since I had been reduced to a symbol. Ten years since "Meteor". Since the greatest calamity since my ancestor's time. And I had been brought back seven years after it. Three years ago.

Three long years ago.

I had learned so much after being dead. That I may have been a fighter in spirit, but I certainly wasn't one in body. Frail. Weak. A staff might have been a good thing to fight off druggies and bums and childish gang members... but it served no purpose when I truly needed it.

They called me a martyr. They were half right; I did die for a cause I believed in. It was the willing part that they didn't get right. I hadn't been ready to die then; I thought it would protect me. And maybe _he_ would protect me, if it failed.

But even _he_ continued living, without me. And judging by his children, without _her_ too. So neither of us got him in the end, did we? Funny how it doesn't ache so much to know that he has moved on as much as it does to see that he was allowed _children_. Both Tifa and I had been denied that.

I felt it slip from her when she fell into the Lifestream... for then, I _was_ the Lifestream. So many souls and I was one and all of them. I felt the promise of giving life ebb from her... because she sought to find _him_. Poor deluded girl.

He wasn't the answer. He wasn't the answer at all.

But I had to think about real life now. No more daydreaming. No matter how much this isolation ached, I wasn't really alone... no I wasn't really alone...

"Manakel?"

I looked up, not having realized that I had let my head sink. The young man, near my supposed age, his name was Daniel. His poorly veiled flirtations were a source of amusement every Wednesday, when he came to pick up the flour to take to the store. I had lost a lot of my edge when it came to quick love; protective men in armor or not did nothing for me. I was slow to woo.

Poor Daniel had his work cut out for him.

"Yes? What is it you need?" I asked, while smiling. I could still do that; even if I'm dying, I could smile. Another irony, I suppose.

"There's a man come here to see you," he answered, and I could see those protective worry lines all over his youthfully old face. What is it with men and their constant need to protect me? I'd already died once... this time, I'd be better prepared for it. This time, I think I'd welcome it.

He opened the door, and I rose; impolite to be sitting down while a guest appears. I was a mess too, with my bun falling out and surely covered in flour... funny how worried I get about such things these days. Small comforts and habits, I guess.

Daniel darted out of the doorway, letting the other man in. His fairly slight frame was replaced by that of a taller, lean but fit...

Oh, _Hell_ no.

"Hello, Aeris," he said, that smugly familiar baritone filling up the small room, "You've been a little difficult to track down." How dare he, that... that...

I took the steps necessary, a good thing I was already standing, and slapped him as hard as I could. That may not have been nearly hard enough to do anything, but I had a sharp little ring on... and if you backhand properly, it will scratch.

He wasn't the only one I'd slapped in the past three years. If good men feel the need to constantly protect me, then bad men feel the need to take advantage of that. I was weak in body, but I'd _never_ be weak in will.

"It was you, wasn't it!" I shouted at him, feeling angry, angrier than I'd ever felt before, "It was you, Sephiroth!" There was no doubt in my mind now what had resurrected me, no other creature would be foul enough to pay the price necessary for me to live. No one would be able to kill so easily.

He smirked at me, bringing a long fingered hand up to his cheek and almost chuckling when it came away bloodied. So he _could_ bleed. Somehow, that startled me almost more than his appearance.

"I don't go by that inane title anymore," he replied, almost sounding bored with himself. Maybe he'd take on a different tone if I slapped him again. My, I'd gotten very aggressive over the years.

"What do you want?" I asked, even before my brain caught up with me. He had closed the door, no doubt so Daniel wouldn't come rushing in to rescue me from the great "general". At least he'd gotten rid of that horrible coat.

He still had the ridiculous hair, though. I guess we both had our vanities.

"To collect what is mine," he answered with a casual sort of elegance, "To collect what I am entitled to, as I exist now. You may call me Azrael." The nerve of him. Just who... what... I was stumped as to his meaning. Did he mean... _me_?

"_Sephiroth_," I emphasized his name because no fancy new title was going to make him suddenly above me, "What makes you think that... and _why did you bring me back!_"

He edged in, and I couldn't help but back up. I had remembered those eyes; even as I was on the very brink of life... even death had not let me forget them. Even on _him_, I could finally see the difference. Two hands, ungloved now, grabbed my shoulders and flung me roughly against the wall.

Cloud's madness had only been but a fraction of this man's. Man, ha, I had no idea what he was now. He'd either died then risen or hadn't died at all... humans didn't do that. The briefest of thoughts flashed through my head...

Did this mean that whatever was human in me was gone too?

"_I_ did not bring you back, _Aeris_," he snarled, and I could feel his breath on my face... it was almost cold. So he bled like a man and breathed like a monster. How terribly ironic.

"Stop calling me that! I'm Manakel now! Manakel!" I shouted, the hell with self control. My _murderer_ stood here, bullying me around and telling me that I somehow belonged to him? Not only that, he'd brought me back to life and was lying about it! What did he intend on killing me again? I would not give him that—

"_I_ did **not** bring you back!" he hissed louder now. I heard a knock on the door, but I realized that he'd locked it. Probably Daniel... I was very loud if I wanted to be. If I shouted again, the whole town of Kalm would probably be at my doorstep.

"Then who did?" I whispered, jaw clenched. I'd save my shouting for something biting.

"Why my supposed mother, of course," he said, smiling like a fox. Like he was somehow exempt of whatever reaction I was about to deliver.

It was then that I screamed, a loud and piercing thing that was sure to shatter his eardrums. So loud that even the silent Planet would hear. For this was anguish, pure and simple. The pain of the past only came back as the same thing...

Jenova.

* * *

AN: Now you're asking "Why didn't Aeris go back to see Cloud? Didn't she love him?". Well, she did. That's specifically _why_ she didn't go and seek him out. If you don't get that, I'm sorry. But I'm trying to be realistic, at least a little. Oh, and I hope you like who resurrected her. Mwhaha.  



	4. 4: Magdalena

**Chapter 4 – Magdalena**

Now I knew what it was like to piss "Mother" off. Admittedly, her annoyance at my rebellion was a source of endless entertainment for the six years I was in stasis. I didn't need to go mad or anything and the telepathic shrieks of her through my being made me chuckle. I would have been bored otherwise; the Lifestream was a terribly dull and slow thing.

Served her right, holding me back as she did. She realized that destroying the planet would destroy _her_ too. Parasites have an uncanny sense of self-preservation. I should know, as I had been one while my wounds were being healed. I had a better understand of Jenova now that I had been like her... become thine enemy sort of logic.

But she did get her revenge on me. Not something that would make me truly angry, what power did she really have against _me_, but more an annoyance. An annoyance that popped up while I was tracking Strife down. A resonating force, a feeling like sand in one's eye.

She had brought the Cetra back. How crude.

So, I spent the next few years trying to track _her_ down. One would think that a tiny little half-Cetra would be easy to find... but her appearance must have changed. That, and she didn't contact any of her "friends". I had located them without any trouble, even if most of them had chosen anonymity over fame.

I watched Strife for a time, waiting for the Cetra to run to him, as he would have been who she would think of first. Three months later and no sign of her. I was looking forward to that reunion; seems Strife had gotten himself married. To some Wutain lady... she looked oddly familiar, too. But alas, no drama. It was rather boring watching him; when not fighting, my toy is a very dull person. Killing him now would be a mercy.

And what sort of reputation would _that_ bring me?

So, I moved on to Lockhart. Girls did tend to sit around and giggle together, didn't they? Well, whatever reason I had, it yielded no results. She was even more boring. Though she had kept training over the years, she took care of a large number of _children_. Evil spawn.

Valentine was fun to watch for a time. Until Lockhart infected him. Then he might as well have been Strife. Though, when they argued, the fools, I did get some entertainment. Seems Valentine doesn't turn red when angry... he turned kind of bluish. And Lockhart liked to throw things. Especially sharp kitchen utensils.

I tracked them all down, one by one, discovering everything about the Cetra's past in the process. I knew her mother's name, the fact that she had a brief affair with Zack, never flew in an aircraft of any kind, was allergic to shellfish... many things. None of which resulted in where she _was_. Humans never had any good information, I had learned. How tiresome.

It was unfair. Gaia had given me a flower, and I dutifully smashed it between the pages of a book; preserving her as mine for all eternity. And Jenova took her away, and gave her back to Gaia again.

And no, I was _not_ acting like a spoiled child. I had every right to her.

By chance and through my own experiences did I discover her location. It was two events that led me to where I stood now. The first being a drunken conversation with a courier in one of Mr. Reeve's many franchised fine ale establishments. And the second being the fact of my name; Azrael.

She had changed her name. I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it sooner.

So, after following the sod back to the respective small town, I was at a mill. Awaiting some lady who went by Manakel. Who may or may not have been that blasted Cetra.

Judging by the screeching banshee before me, I had found the proper girl. But Gaia be damned, was she ever _loud_.

A good thing that she was so small. One hand was all it took to silence her. Hopefully, she wouldn't bite; saliva was such an icky thing. And I'd rather not bleed again, if it was possible. The first time had been entertaining; any following would just be annoying.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't make so much noise," I said to her, swallowing the chuckle as she stared back indignantly, "You'll wake the dead at this rate." An image of Valentine bolting upright in his bed seized me. I couldn't contain that chuckle.

She bit me. Saliva was just so _slimy_. I was vaguely repulsed.

Despite this, though, I kept my hand firmly on her mouth. I needed to find something to gag her with for the moment. I could have simply killed her, but what was the sport in that? Besides, she was angry with me. It was entertaining.

And had I ever been _bored_ for the past ten years.

I glanced around the room. Nothing. Not even a damn ribbon in her hair. She still had that flowerlike quality to her... but she dressed rather prudishly and kept her hair like an old woman. Trying to be normal, weren't you, Flower?

I tore off a piece of fabric from my coat—a new one, in my new favorite color, stupid Cetra—and used it to bind around her mouth. I changed my grip to her wrists, no telling when she might resort to slapping again, and admired my handiwork.

From the neck up, she was a vision. Her green eyes were bright and vivid with her anger, and wisps of hair that escaped her bun framed her slightly rosy and gagged face. Ah, the dark green went nicely, a good new favorite color indeed.

If only I could get rid of those damned prudish clothes of hers. Flowers belonged in appropriate vases. At least she'd lost the ghastly pink, it was rather unflattering. But she was practically dressed in a flour sack.

Ha, right, she worked at a mill. How very resourceful.

"Mmmph! Mmm. Mm m mmmm!" she protested. Flower doesn't like the staring? Well, it was time for us to be off anyways. So I hoisted her over my shoulder and made my way to the exit. She kicked at me as I unlocked the door, so I set her down again. I needed rope if I was going to be able to carry her off effectively.

Ah, this place had some of that. Too thin to make a good gag, but just right for binding little Cetra ankles and wrists. I made quick work of that, seeing to it that she couldn't thrash around while I got us out of this small town. Small towns always made me uncomfortable. I was born in one.

'_Spawned' is a more appropriate term._

So she spoke. I wondered why she was silent for so long. Of course, with me moving about all of Gaia, I could block her better. Though the actually physical link between us had been broken, she could still project her mental tentacles into my mind. Sometimes. I hadn't been in stasis for six years for nothing.

I was the veritable invincible man. Except I wasn't a man. Or a god. I was Azrael.

But I couldn't dwell on that. The sod was standing in front on me, Flower was protesting her muffled threats in my ear and I felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on. Wasn't I supposed to be immune to that sort of thing? Well, it was still morning, and 11:30 am is as good a time as any commit murder.

"You can't get away with this! You can't just walk off with Mana—"I cut off his protests with some steel to the gut. It bothered me how humans couldn't simply see it when their purpose was done. They lived too excessively.

"I'm afraid you've expired, my dear sod," I said for no particular reason to the now corpse. Flower's protests were more high pitched now. I wiped my sword on her awful sack dress. Hmm. Red looked rather good on her. Much better than pink.

"Well, my little flower, I suppose you want to know where I'm taking you?" I hadn't talked much with anyone besides the various souls I'd freed from life and Jenova, so it was rather fun talking with my pet. Especially while she couldn't talk back. I would eventually give her the right to speak, but not until I showed her...

She needed to know at what cost she had been brought back. I need to redirect her anger to Jenova. I had done her a favor, preserving her like that. Death was a wonderful and far less painful existence... it was this "normal" life that was making her suffer. And I wasn't the source of that. Jenova was.

Not that I wanted a happy flower or anything. She'd wilt. I just wanted to focus her power... it was somewhere, hidden under all that flour. A flour covered flower... what an image. I laughed at the hidden pun... eventually I'd tell her all about my little amusements.

"We're going to the Midgar Ruins, Flower," I continued, nearly wanting to hum to myself, "I have a surprise for you." I smiled, I simply had to. When she saw the error of blaming _me_... ah, it would be a good time. Put Flower's thorns to a better use. My purpose.

And wouldn't it just be...

No, no I needed to save that idea for later. My list of things to do was fairly long now that item one was done. I had my Gift... now I only had to leave a permanent mark before I left this horrible piece of rock.

Oh Avalanche... you didn't realize how much you helped me, did you?

* * *

AN: Sephiroth first POV is the most fun thing to write, besides Cid. I really connected with my inner sociopath. And I know... still no romance. It'll happen when it happens. Please don't bug me about it. 


	5. 5: Pet

**Chapter 5 – Pet**

Somehow, the difference between knowing something and seeing it with your own two eyes always seemed to elude me. I knew that Midgar was called the Midgar Ruins for a reason. But that reason was stored away like school lessons; simple facts and numbers.

This was more than seeing. It was experience. I was being consumed.

There was a dead city in front of me. Skeletal, abused, and gray... I half expected ghosts to be wandering around the abandoned buildings. But Sephiroth had gone one step further while dragging me here... he'd done his research. He had brought me to the very breaking point.

A church. My church. And there were dead children inside.

My brain had caught up to my eyes. He had unbound and ungagged me just outside of the city; I'd been too transfixed as he led me through the labyrinthine alleyways and streets. We'd encountered several blockings in our path, but he navigated around them with a familiarity that made me wary. He knew where he was leading me, almost too well.

But all that deduction and careful thinking went out the window as soon as I saw the children. Their bodies were unnaturally preserved and some of their eyes were still wide with an odd mixture of despair and terror... I nearly got sick.

That was the first time I felt my sanity slip since the beginning moments of my resurrection.

"Children... there have to be... at least... a... h-hundred or so..." I sputtered, my lips making sounds without my volition. I knew I'd been crying even before it happened... but silent sort of tears. How could something _do_ that? Why was I surrounded by so much... death?

And it was smiling at me.

"Can you now see that I could not do this?" he said, that wicked grin still gracing his features, "You should know personally that this is not my... style." It was almost funny how insanely logical he was. It reminded me of a memory... my mother, and...

There were dead eyes staring at me. I still couldn't get over that. Children were Life... what happened when they were dead? I should have known the answer to that question, but I didn't. I'd only been left with an aftertaste of wisdom and unity... and it was oddly bitter.

"Jenova used... them for..." I was a specter, mind detached from my body. And my body had spoken. My mind was still transfixed on a little girl, her wide blue eyes pleading for a chance to grow up. I wanted to tell her that it was almost better not to...

A hand on my shoulder. I nearly jumped.

"They called it a disease," he murmured, a practiced art that could make lesser people shiver, "Scar Star or some ilk like that. An epidemic that spread amongst those that tried to retake Midgar..." I wondered if I'd ever sounded that way, with my borrowed prophecies and patchwork pieces of stories. An opaque plane of glass; you can't see into it, but you can break through with enough force. Except this man... was a steel wall.

"These weren't the only ones," he continued, delivering the speech with frightful accuracy, "From what I discovered, nearly all the children in the Midgar area were afflicted. And only children. Jenova is smart indeed..." The last part he spoke almost to himself, an odd gleam in his eye.

"What do you mean?" I was regaining control of my vocal faculties. I had closed my eyes... maybe then the faces would quit pleading with me.

"She wanted to make sure you would be around for some time," he said, and I could feel fingers on my hair. I bit back the urge to slap him again. "Children with more potential life..." I could feel it in the air as he grinned, "I am sure you could figure it out."

"Am I... immortal now?" I asked, no thinking, just keep talking. He undid the string that kept my hair up, and I grabbed his wrist after he did so. It shocked me how warm he was. I felt a nip on my hand before I let go. It tingled.

"We're even now," he purred, "A bite for a bite." I was rather annoyed with how he liked to change the subject. Control, control... admittedly, he'd had it this entire time. What was the use fighting it...? No, I didn't need to think like that. I didn't even know _what_ I was fighting now.

I opened my eyes.

"Answer my question," I hissed, feeling angry. Just angry. I had grieved for the children; now it was time to be angry... this simply wasn't _fair_. I had to die and now I had to live. I hadn't wanted to do either. And I was complaining.

"No _human_ can kill you," he said carefully, an artistic thing. And I caught the drift of his meaning, like a silent threat. _Don't dare cross me, little girl_. I had finally focused on his face, and wondered in the back of my mind why the most beautiful things were also the most dangerous.

Cloud, broken and with the most fantastic pair of blue eyes, when he raged was the most frightening thing I'd ever seen. Even then, when I was naïve, and alive and wishing for everything... I worried what would happen had he snapped. Had he turned to the darker side of humanity.

And Tifa, behind that light smile of hers... I wondered if she'd ever snapped a man's neck. I wondered, had I actually gotten him, if she would turn that anger that lay just below the surface on him... or me.

And why was I thinking about my friends like that? I loved them, I truly did. I couldn't think of them like that.

"Do you want vengeance?" he asked, a breath away, studying me like a painting. I felt every misplaced brushstroke now, seeping into the folds of my skin. I'd never been so imperfect in my life... but for an odd flicker of a moment, I felt like I could evolve into something. What was that something?

"Vengeance? Is everything that simple to you?" I asked, feeling my temper flare again. How _dare_ he look at me like that... even if it was Jenova that did the deed, it was his entire fault. If I hadn't died in the first place...

_If I hadn't died..._

"Are you always going to be so weak?" he snarled, more of an enjoyable expression than anything threatening. It made me frown, I could feel it, just seeing how he tried to bait me. But before I had a chance to answer, I heard a voice.

"He has risen." Soft, light, and wholly reverent. He turned his attention from me to the voice. My legs urged me to run, to get away from this place of death... but I couldn't. Curiosity, still as strong as I was when I was a little girl tugged me to look at the speaker.

"Show yourself," Sephiroth demanded, the ever present smirk widening. He already knew who it was... why the elaborate act?

When he stepped into the light, I wondered if it was one of his illusions. The man looked like him... same ridiculous hair and sneer. Unless...

"We come to offer our services, Great Sephiroth," the man said, voice refined in a way that reminded me of the original (no doubt he was a clone) but just roughened enough to show that he'd lived a real life. But there were more... he said "we"...

Two more; a shorter one with an air of leadership, and a tall, muscular one... hair short and with a sense of athleticism. A triad. I knew that there was something significant with threes... what knowledge could I remember? I looked to the dead eyes for the answer... no, only sorrow here. Sorrow and death.

"I do not go by that inappropriate title anymore," he replied, calm and practiced... his amount of control was unnerving, "...Azrael. That is my true name." They nodded, in almost perfect unison. It was creepy, in a place like this. I felt myself shiver involuntarily.

"Flower. Would you like to aid us?" he said, turning to me. I hadn't realized that I had spaced out, floating in some place between waking and dreaming. It was safe there, no wonder I had retreated.

"I-in what?" I asked, and immediately regretted it. No way, in a thousand years, would I help _Sephiroth_. Only evil came from him. Even in the barest touches of his fingertips, I could feel the power and malice. Yes, that tingle was malice, evil and malice.

"Giving these _poor souls_ a proper sending," he replied, grinning. It was then that I noticed the match in his outstretched hand. Such long musician-like fingers. But I couldn't be noticed that. Must have been the match. It was one of those extra large ones, used for bonfires.

The triplets, from the corner of my eye, were busy pouring something... Oh, I knew what they were doing. But instead of disgust, like my brain would normally register it as... I saw it fitting.

I didn't like the dead eyes staring at me. And no one should see this place; there was enough madness in this very church to go around.

Before I could answer he was leading me, with the gentleness that a gardener would to a prized rose, out of the falling doorway. One of the triplets lead a trail of liquid after us, and the other two exited in different ways. And I now held the match.

I struck it on the bottom of my shoe.

The flame caught quickly. Whatever they have poured everywhere, it was very flammable. I remembered Cloud right then, fists clenched in order to not betray the anger and sadness he felt as he described the flames as Nibelheim burned to ash. How he described those eyes, mirroring the fire... And here I was having set flame to the unnaturally dead children in what once I grew flowers in...

I hadn't even looked to see if they still grew.

He patted my shoulder like an obedient pet. If only this weren't so logical, if only I wasn't happy to see the place turn to ash, I would have smacked his hand away. I still felt the urge to beat him, to strike at him with my fists... if only I'd been as powerful as _they_ were. As _he_ was.

I was crying, silent tears that I'd longed to shed over so many things. Aeris, she had to keep smiling, keep reassuring... but Manakel just wanted to die, wanted to hide, wanted to... to...

Aeris had served her purpose. Manakel had yet to find one.

I stopped crying. It was such a sudden thing that I gasped. It made sense now, and it was just too terribly ironic that it can in the form of my murderer...

"Do you plan on killing them?" I asked, knowing he caught my meaning. I could feel that maniacal grin behind me, lighting up the air even more than the fire did.

"Do you plan on becoming strong enough to stop me?" he replied. But I expected that answer.

"Yes," I answered, though the quiver in my voice belied my intent, "I think I know how to now." I turned so I could see him head one, smirk and beauty and madness all in my view. And I wondered for a brief moment if Cloud had ever felt the same way, looking at how the silver of his hair turned golden in the flickering light, how his eyes almost looked blue like the ocean as the light danced in them...

Sometimes, in order to preserve life, there has to be death. I could see that now. In order to protect...

I grabbed onto his neck, leveraging my light weight so that I was face to face. Eye level. He only looked surprised for an instant before I slammed my mouth violently onto his.

No wonder people sold their souls... it felt surprisingly good.

* * *

AN: Umm... ya. I'm not changing Sephiroth. And the suddenness... I don't want to trifle with scenes upon scenes of unnecessary conflict or travel. I go straight from point to point... this is more of a character focus and such. Oh, and I was listening to the RaXephon OST while writing this one... check out "Ongaku" to catch some of my thought processes. Oh, and for the kinky sex comment: shame, shame on you. XD And for those that say Aeris is OOC... I'm sorry, "happy-go-lucky" resurrected Aeris is OOC to me. This is how I would imagine someone who's essentially lost everything would act. And the SHM cameo... Aeri's request. I didn't put them in there just to add to the sexy man count. XD  



	6. 6: Weak and Powerless

**Chapter 6 – Weak and Powerless**

Admittedly, my first 'kiss' was from a man. I was showing the proper way to resuscitate a person from the brink of certain death, and there was nothing sexual or electric to it at all. A notion I found funny now, while this tiny little woman clung to my neck pressing her thin pink lips against mine. I was now assured that the odd feeling I'd gotten from the first time was very minor in comparison to this.

Though, I hadn't had a church burning in the background then. Had I known this woman around the time of Nibelheim... I think it probably would have been amplified more. There was something inherently... blasphemous about this sort of thing. Like fornicating on top of a coffin.

Hmm. Well, judging by the stirrings I was experiencing, certain things were still in working order. Glad to see the Lifestream hadn't messed with _that_.

I didn't think she would catch on so quickly, would dive in headfirst so _boldly_. I had to admit it; Flower was rather brave, even if she tried to hide behind a guise of cowardice. She knew _exactly_ who she was, and now, hopefully she knew exactly where she was going.

With me. I wanted her sanity. I wanted everything.

"You don't own me," she whispered, still clinging to my neck, so light, probably had little bird bones that snap very easily. She smiled a sweet smile after that and leaned in again. Hmm. This was an extra I hadn't considered.

I almost didn't notice the pain as she bit my lip. The little wench.

She smiled as she let go, landing like a cat on her feet. A tiny dribble of blood traveled from the corner of her pink little mouth, and I watched it as it feel off her chin. Feeling vampiric, little flower? Sort of fitting that a child of Gaia would be reborn as nothing more than a leech. Well, for the moment. I hoped that the gravity of her resurrection finally hit her.

Maybe she would go completely mad. Wouldn't that just be delightful? I could send her to kill off some of them. The _human_ ones. Having a pseudo immortal pet did have its benefits. I could see why Jenova kept me around. How demeaning; glad I seceded from that horrible excuse for an organism.

Red. It looked so delightful next to her porcelain skin. Next chance I got, she would be decked in red... maybe I'd kill off Valentine first and steal his cape. No, let's not get distracted...

I was laughing without realizing it again. Flower was glaring at me in a particularly domineering way. What a spoil sport.

"Why do you continually insist on making me bleed?" I asked, not for the answer, but for the twitch of her eyebrows as she thought. She gave me that and a small huff before she wiped the remaining blood with the back of her hand. The way she wiped it on her dress, a person would get the impression that something toxic or disgusting had been on her. She frowned at whatever expression I was making upon watching her.

Jenova was nothing in comparison to this sort of entertainment. Truly.

"A reminder," she replied, hands on hips, nose wrinkling as the stench of burning bodies wafted in with a slight breeze, "That you're not indestructible." Another one of those sickening sweet smiles... I'd have to train her to avoid those. I'd have to train her.

"Lord Azrael," one of my groupies spoke, "Shall we take care of the lady?" I couldn't help but smirk at their attempt at courtly manners. That was a day and age dead long before any of us came into the world. Still, some are delusional.

The old Midgarian youth scene is the essence of delusion. They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery; silver hair dye in and of itself perhaps made up more than a few store owners incomes. As feeble an attempt at being one of my kind (of which there are one exactly) as it is... there is a certain satisfaction in being famous enough for that.

The flipside to Strife's little group of friends and their anonymity meant that I sort of maintained mine. All I had to do was loosely tie my hair back and put on a new coat...

I wanted a red one now. Red was my new favorite color.

"Certainly," I replied, watching the momentary confusion in her face. Yes, she did catch the double meaning there. My cleverness was indeed rubbing off on her. I barely need to make a sign to them, and my lackeys are upon her... youth have so little of their own minds. Only three; they are strong ones. But terribly unclever.

"I will go with you," she shouts, dodging the tallest one as he tries to catch her by the arms, "on _my_ terms!" She has broken from them and cleaved herself to me... but not in the weak willed feminine way she seemed to with Strife, but a forceful grip that almost felt as if she were forcing _me_ to be attached to her.

That simply would not do.

One glance was all I needed to have it in my free hand. Worshippers were ever so delightfully useful. They made injecting some tranquilizers in this pretty flower's neck ever so much easier.

"My... terms..." she mumbled before collapsing into my arms. Strikingly romantic image, wasn't it? The damsel falling into the hero's arms... oh, I was certainly laughing again.

"Good work," I said to the short one, the one who wielded authority amongst his brothers. Funny, how many short leader men I'd encountered in the duration of my long life. It made me think on my age... I was over forty now. Not that anyone could see that, but it was a fact. How mundane.

I inclined my head downward to Flower. Her terms? She was clearly mistaken. A kiss wasn't quite the rebellion she thought it was. It only allowed me to mold her all the more easily...

I would have to bring her a gift. Yes, that would be a good idea. I'd wasted enough time with her and my plans needed to be set in motion. With such a simple thing as a church burning, I could feel the beginnings of her "madness".

At least that's what _humans_ would call it. Idiotic beings.

I had to gather the others... for Flower and I weren't the only inhuman things on Gaia. One in particular was an enemy... but a couple of others might prove to be friendly. Or at least malleable. All I had to do was set it in motion.

"Get the lady some proper clothing," I said to the tallest one, the most obedient. He nodded before heading off towards his motorbike. They undoubtedly had one for me waiting, so I went in that general direction too.

"Make it red, too," I added as an afterthought, grinning like some hideous schoolboy, no doubt. I would have to get something red for myself too.

The hunt had begun.

I always heard classical music, probably residual memories from a lab childhood, whenever I was particularly happy. Like stalking prey. I'd long since discovered that women, no matter how much training and strength they possessed could be easily disarmed. All this girl needed was a tranquilizer... the other...

I hadn't even noticed that I was on one of their dreadful death mobiles, the nice feel of wind and flowing... I was feeling most angelic, knowing that I must have made an interesting sight on a motorcycle.

Always thinking two steps ahead... that would catch up with me if I didn't watch it. At least the Kalm Metropolis (that sounded strange, even to me) was close. I'd hate to have to track her down across all of Gaia. Only Flower warranted such effort. This was nothing short of an altruistic gesture.

Well, maybe there was something in it for me. Ha.

The journey flew by. I had to admit, I wondered exactly what velocity I was going, as all seemed to be smudges of color and motion... like psychological tests in a mental institution. If I saw mostly red, did that mean I had violent tendencies... or was it green? It had been years since I'd had to remember such a slippery science.

I hated science. There is no logic to it.

I arrived at the quaint little house, sickeningly peaceful, just as the sun began its descent. Late afternoon. Perfect. I couldn't have timed this better. I knew their habits, I knew their patterns.

And Flower's gift was all alone.

I stalked into the house through an open window. Autumn made people complacent... their problem, really. I wondered if the front door was open, but through the window allowed me an element of surprise.

She was humming to herself. How utterly domestic she looked too. I had the sudden urge to dress her up in tight leather and set her lose on a strip club filled with Soldiers and Turks.

Not that I'd ever engaged in such behavior.

She cocked her head to the side, and a smile crept up on her face. I awaited what would happen when she turned to face me. I was just across the room now, just waiting, waiting...

"Vin, you don't have to be all stealthy if you want to—" She stopped, eyes wide as she saw me. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Silly girl, did she really think that she was _safe_?

"Hello Lockheart, did you miss me?" I asked, watching as surprise turned to anger, and then to slight panic... ah, she'd be perfect for Flower. Great thing to train on, a wonderful test... Lockheart was so pathetically human.

"You... are you..." she began and then made a dash for the stairs. Where she kept her gloves, I knew. Thing was, I'd sent one of the triad to snatch them only yesterday. But I didn't let her finish her trek, as I yanked on that terribly long hair of hers. She'd kept most of it; much to her disadvantage.

"You haven't been training for a couple of years now," I whispered in her ear as I immobilized those treacherous arms of hers, "And even if your aging has been slowed a little, it's beginning to take its toll." I could hear her jaw clench. She was holding her tongue... how disappointing. It further accentuated just how wonderfully unique a flower I had be given. I would have to thank Gaia later.

Thank? Whatever was I thinking?

"They'll come looking for me," she spoke through gritted teeth, "You won't get away with this, Sephiroth." Such venom in a simple recitation of a name! I wondered how long it would take to break that. Such a tool, Lockheart, you'll be.

"The name is Azrael or _Lord_ Azrael to you," I replied, dragging her to where I knew they kept some good strong cord, "And I'm counting on that. You have such predictable friends." This elicited a short gasp from her, before I began to bind her. I'd learned that most women couldn't be coerced to go anywhere without a little extra... persuasion. Ah rope, you glorious thing!

I gagged her for good measure, using her blue hair ribbon. I quickly scanned the main room, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

And then I saw it. Lockheart must have been mending it, or else he would have been wearing it. It hung on a peg, and provided me two things that I wanted. Lockheart was bound enough so that I wouldn't have to worry about her skittering away. So I walked over and picked it up, studying it before shedding my coat and donning it. Good thing Valentine is so tall.

I would have to get one of the triad to alter it to a better... styling. At least it wasn't tattered anymore. I hung my old coat in its place, and turned with a satisfied smirk to my quarry.

"I think I pull this off rather well," I said to her, watching her eyes narrow. She mumbled something unintelligible, but I suspected it involved me shoving something into a rather unpleasant place.

Now, now, Lockheart, you don't have to be so crude.

With another one of the magic needles, I silenced her fully. A limp body wasn't the easiest to carry around, but it didn't matter once I was on the doom mobile. And it didn't matter once I had gotten to my home, a rather elaborate home that probably once resided in Sector Two.

No, all that matter was that Flower was awake, and looking like Fate herself. Red was such a flattering color on her, made her look so vibrantly alive... erasing the washed out pallor that she had previously. And the cut of it emphasized her... assets. I would have to give the triad something special for their good work. Maybe I'd toss them Wallace's whelp; Kadaj had been eying her lately.

I dropped Lockheart at her feet and smiled. I was a good little hunter, wasn't I? As an added token, I untied this strange little pink ribbon that Lockheart kept around her arm, and wrapped it around Flower's wrist.

"She is all yours, milady," I said, hoping she saw the irony in it all. I was so pleased with my wit that I almost didn't see the hand that I had previously been holding sailed towards my face.

Ungrateful.

* * *

AN: There's FANART for this chapter! Thanks to Vester, aka Great Materia Hunter Yuffie, there's a visualization for the Red Seph and Aeris! Found here: http / www . deviantart . com / view / 18981402 / Just remove the spaces. And... ya. Tifa's in this. And no, not your usual Tifa meets resurrected Aeris.  



	7. 7: Thinking of You

**Chapter 7 – Thinking of You**

I looked up from hitting him again... I was angry. I was always angry in regards to him. He... _he_ was perversion of everything. Everything. This was not the way Gaia meant things to be... I may have given up praying, but I'd never give up the faith I had in the Planet. I'd never give up my faith in people most of all.

Sephiroth was _never_ a person.

"What do you intend for me to do with my _gift_?" I spoke, noticing that I'd scraped him a bit with my nails. No bruise. Pity. He leered, and I knew an inkling of what was going through his mind... gods, did this _thing_ have anything unsoiled about him?

And why did I enjoy it when I kissed him?

My thoughts were wandering and I had to focus on whatever tripe he was cooking up. He made a show of getting in the right posture; haunty, and standing right over Tifa. Vae victus. Ancient words that just seemed to sing in his presence. So who's the conquered, Peacock?

"I thought she would be excellent to practice on," he said, without missing a beat, "I figured a female would be more evenly matched... and you do need to work on your combat skills. They lack the same panache as your magic." Of course, _you_ can say that, can't you? You were trained from birth to be a weapon, I was...

I'd never realized that I had been one to. But in a different manner. Sacrificing someone for a cause can be a weapon in many ways too...

But Tifa? She'd kick my scrawny little butt. And I doubted she would fight me... there was a certain rivalry, I'll admit, but it never got in the way of _us_. Maybe had we known each other for a few years, but then? I loved her like a sister, and I never got the impression to the contrary from her...

Did I ever miss her. Seeing her looking up at me now, big brown eyes narrowed at me...

She was awake. I always knew she was hard to knock out. Judging from the expression on Sephiroth's face, he knew, and she'd bee awake for a good amount of time. I wish that he'd just _tell_ me that he was going to screw royally with my life... then maybe I could at least dodge. Or impale him on his own sword.

Why are my thoughts so... evil?

He reached down and delicately removed the ribbon from Tifa's mouth. She tried to bite him, but he must have learned to avoid it. I guess I was the only one who'd gotten a good taste of him. Bitter.

"You bastard! First you... and now, this _hussy_ you've got parading around as Aeris..." she began, as a string of similar thoughts erupted from her mouth. Sephiroth smiled. I waited for her to get out the emotion before speaking.

"It is me, you know," I said, feeling warm to see her up close. Is your reality so twisted by your guilt still? Did you ever find yourself, amidst all of that... Cloud?

"You can't be her... she's dead!" she choked on the word, and I could see the hysterics were getting to her, "You dishonor her... consorting with... with..." I frowned. She wouldn't understand why I still remained in his presence. She wouldn't even understand my life.

She always said she thought best while fighting. Maybe beating me up would calm her a little. Maybe... maybe I needed to be punished for my wicked thoughts.

"Sephiroth, can I have—" I began, but the words caught in my throat as I saw that he held what I was about to ask for. But a twisted version of it... like everything else my new life seemed to be filled with.

A staff. A wicked and bladed staff.

He stepped back, probably to avoid Tifa's immediate wrath upon him. She seemed focused a bit on me for the moment anyway, so he didn't really have to worry. I was a perversion, the current reality on her memories of the past. And Tifa had a way of turning things around in her memory... the confused dear.

I cut the ropes with the staff, and was welcomed with a fist to my chin. Normally, I would be out cold with a blow like that. But I wasn't normal. I barely felt it... and that was... strangely exhilirating.

I wasn't so weak after all.

"You better not be hiding, _Sephiroth_," Tifa snarled, readjusting her stance, "Once I take care of your little friend here, I'm coming after you!" When did Tifa become so... bold? Did her hatred run that deep? Could she be so blinded by the pains of the past to not see _me_?

I had to make her see. We wanted the same things!

Since I hadn't been knocked out, or even down, she considered her moves more carefully. Still, I remembered a few of her techniques, she'd joking offered to teach me on a number of occasions, and I could somewhat anticipate her moves. And there was something I noticed, from the way she stood...

She was a little out of shape. The peaceful life had softened her a bit.

And I was grinning. Almost like my face had taken wild abandon from my mind. Lunge, block, lunge, lunge, block... I was the aggressor, and she was my quarry... it felt good.

That's when I dropped the staff. This... this wasn't _me._ It had to be _him_, master manipulator... he was controlling me! I don't want to hurt anyone... especially, no, not even _him_!

Tifa took the oppurtunity to lay a swift kick to my jaw, which I could feel bruise... but that was about it. But I was riled up, I was panting, I felt... gods, how inappropriate. And he wasn't in sight during the fight... but I knew he was watching. Sneaky dirty little man.

"Loz, handle her." Just as I expected. Let the puppets handle the dirty work. Watch from your high place.

Tifa hadn't moved from her spot, eyes darting around, looking for her enemy. I'd been forgotten, it seemed, and that hurt so much worse seeing it in front of me. Maybe that's why I liked the fighting so much... I was _seen_. But no... no. I couldn't even kid myself about that.

"Tifa." The part of me that was still Aeris couldn't just let her be. She, _she_ of all people should know me. She had to.

She stopped her searching for a moment and stared at me. Really studied me, without looking for defects or weaknesses or openings. The briefest flickers of a smile graced her features before they returned to the battle hardened stare. So close.

"Aeris is dead," she said, with the gentlest voice I'd ever heard from her, "Go back to your master, whore." There could only be bitterness, I realized. I wasn't the girl they used to know... they would never accept me. So I was right to hide. I was right.

Gods... I was right. Or else I would have fallen to my knees and prayed by now. But my knees were stiff and hardened by aching joints.

The blur... there was more fighting, probably Loz, the big one, the smallest smudge of silver and the largest of black. Tifa's voice was the only one I heard, but it was mostly quick insults and challenges... but the world... where did it stop spinning...?

Maybe if I just got lost in it, got lost in the violence, I would feel again. And so I beat at them, at Tifa, at Loz, and always at _his_ face... only, I didn't know who _he_ was anymore. But I made him, her—I made bleed. The blade, so cleverly disguised as a staff had shown me something.

Maybe this was why Gaia had made me weak. Outside her thrall... I was...

"What is there left to sin if you've transcended the gods who made virtue?"

Pompous ass. "I will lead. Do you understand? I'm not your puppet." No, I'm your flower, picked from life and death. We're so poetic in our bloodlust, aren't we?

"I saw that look in your eye. She would make a good pet, with a little work, wouldn't she?" My hair had been loosed again, and this time it wasn't him... it was my own hand. Can a person pretend their whole lives?

Rough stone floor, it's cold. This is only association though, because I'm not kneeling, I'm standing so straight that I'm almost stone myself. Manakel, Manakel... from the oceans, rough rocks, I want to sink back into the ocean's floor...

"Did you forget your prayers? That was a victory, despite that girl's injuries upon you." My fist is full of hair and I pull on it. Can you feel my pain? Can you?

He purrs.

"What if I killed you?" I whisper, there are false pretenses everywhere and all I can think of is this... power? No. Strength.

I lower myself down, not prostrate, not groveling... I do not expect anyone to follow me, except _him_, and I see it now. He didn't want a pet at all. He wanted... it's always the female with him, always... but we've evolved from Mother, haven't we?

"Then you would die with me. Quite simple." Vain, vain, vain... but aren't I a little vain too? Is that why I like to tear at his hair, still long after all these years when mine's been shorn?

"Beg."

But there are no words needed for this part. To defeat evil, I heard that you must become it... but in that sense, you are no better off. Just an anti-villain waiting for the chance to seize the world.

Since I cannot have what I want...

"Of course..."

I hope Tifa hears us. I hope they all do. Maybe then... then they'll _see_ and I can quite this pretending. It wasn't the protector I needed... it was the sword.

* * *

AN: Sorry this took a while. Getting married. Much planning. Much headaches. And this chapter... read BETWEEN the lines. Oh, teh kinky. 


	8. 8: Hollow

**Chapter 8 - Hollow**

The stone floor was cold as I awoke. It was thrilling, finally having brought her to my level. Finally having brought her to... this state of fallen. I knew that Lockheart would be the perfect catalyst for her... I had noticed the touch between them as the fighter had said goodbye.

It would have been a really good morning if two things hadn't assaulted me. The first being that my back was really, really sore, and the second... well, a gun to the head is never pleasant.

"Where is she?" Oh, Valentine is always so serious about things, isn't he? Not even a hello, or a "why Sephiroth, so glad to see you" or the like. People just don't have manners anymore.

And so focused too. Didn't even noticed that Flower lay under his cloak next to me. Wait... ah, the triad works fast. I'd have to thank them later.

"You certainly are pleasant in the morning," I responded, feeling like baiting corpses this morning. I wonder if this made Lockheart a necrophiliac...

"Show me. Now." Dear Gaea, with that tone, he sounded like one of those stuffy old Turks. I never did like them that much... them with their sneaky and nonflashy tactics. Not to mention I owed that Tseng money. But he's dead now, and my debt is paid... well, in my mind at least.

"Wouldn't your morality dictate that patience is a virtue?" I answered. He doesn't want to respond with words anymore, as he presses the gun closer to my temple. I'd have to wake up Flower now and deal with her crankiness as well as this entirely too humorless walking corpse of destruction.

I should kidnap boring women more often.

"I suppose that you will not move until I do or judgment day or some drivel like that," I finally conceded, for it will be more fun when Flower wakes up anyway. I wondered what sort of things they'll have to say to each other.

I should arrange reunions more often too.

"What are you chattering about..." Flower's drowsy voice drifts up from underneath my new coat. I wonder if Valentine even notices what it is, with the alterations and all. His hand stayed steady, as did his face... damn stoics. Though, he did look a bit more frail without his wide shouldered cloak. Whatever did that woman _feed_ him?

Flower's eyes are so wide and green when she sees our little tete a tete that I cannot help a slight chuckle. Little girl afraid of an angry Valentine? Well, I suppose that's quite a thing to wake up to first thing in the morning. How delightful.

"It's not what it looks like," she said nervously, like her father just caught her in her room with a boy. It's a rather illogical response, really. And judging by the reaction, or rather nonreaction on Valentine's face, he seemed to think so too.

"Get out of here, girl. You are not involved in this matter." Her wide Gaia blessed eyes narrowed at that statement. Stubbornness, Flower, stubbornness. No wonder you were so easy to catch.

"I'm not _involved_? From self-absorbed deprecation to this? Geez, Vincent, this is _Tifa_ we're talking about!" with a huff she stood up, her state of half undress apparent now, "You think I don't care? What does it matter to you, grouch!" I understood how these two got along then. And I laughed as little Flower stood as tall as she could, glaring up at Valentine's height. One of the few men I know to be around my own height... he would make a good lieutenant, if I could get rid of that conscience.

He narrowed his eyes down at her and looked over at me. "Interesting choice, Sephiroth. Restrain her, and tell me where Tifa is before I lose my temper." I felt gleeful. Lose your temper, please! I would love to grapple with your demons!

Or maybe have Flower grapple with one... as she now was understanding the full value of her strength and... immortality.

But Flower made the move. Valentine was far too focused on me, the fool. Did he not see that the weapon was before him? Besides, she was never the type to put up with being ignored.

"You... insufferable men! Both of you!" she jumped up to catch Valentine by the ear, "Come with me, we'll _both_ go find her! And you... stay there. No crazy weird stuff while I'm gone!" Yes, ma'am. But of course. Oh, the absolute amusement I found in her inability to be led... delicious. It's no wonder that I followed Jenova for all that time... I'm far too taken with powerful women to be natural.

Especially if I know that I'm the one with all the power.

Valentine looked shocked. Not pained, for even if Flower put her entire weight on his ear, it wouldn't exceed that man's threshold for pain. Though, I began to wonder what the limit for his pain was... maybe if I worked on him a bit too, I would find out.

Oh, killing Strife was going to be so much fun!

"Unhand me," he finally said and gripped her wrist. She gritted her teeth. "Now." She complied, but not without a good glare.

"Why do you not recognize me?" she said, with a whisper, "Especially Tifa... she didn't either." Oh, here came her human weakness. Maybe I would pit her against Valentine for a match. She really needed to get over that tendency for blubbering.

Valentine sighed tiredly. Getting worn out already? I hadn't even had my fun yet... stupid moralistic fools. Did he not realize that I, Azrael the risen, was holding all the power even as he held me at gunpoint? Even with his clawed hand gripping Flower's wrist tightly?

"What if I struck a deal," I finally said, shifting my weight to a comforable position, "If you fight with Flower here... I will not only show you were your Lockheart is, but I will give her back. But you must not hold back on her. She is not as weak as she appears." Another scowl, Flower? Be careful, your face might stick that way.

"Sephiroth! I will not fight him!" Defiance. Always such defiance... but did she not realize that for all my power, I was following _her_ commands? Her desire to be seen by them... they would not recognize her if she stood still. That this... all of this... was arranged for her?

Did she not see what she had become?

"That will not be necessary," Valentine said, and if my eyes did not deceive me... he smirked. The smirk of a man who has pulled the ace from his sleeve in the last few minutes of a card game.

"How is that?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what he was smirking about.

"Do you think I was stupid enough _not_ to bring back up?" Turks. I always hated them, sneaky little things. Valentine was never a spectacular one, only reason that no one noticed when he disappeared. Oh yes, I read _that_ file. Married woman, Valentine? You must have been quite the player, back in the day.

But he had vanished from my vision... for all I saw was _him_. The puppet. Back up, indeed.

He did not say anything. He did not need to. We never really had anything to say to each other, the puppet and I. My sword through his enhanced gut would certainly tell him what I thought of him still. He was a _copy_ not a person at all. A bad copy at that. Did not even have his graceful looks.

The puppet was glaring.

"Oh Holy! Vince wasn't kidding!" a woman's voice... right, there was always women involved with the puppet. They clung to him like dolls without owners. This voice grated me. Grown up, no less?

"Yuff, quiet." So he does speak. Have you gotten soft like Lockheart did? Or have you grown humorless and sneaky like Valentine? Do you really think you are going to fight me, or will you go quietly like a good puppet.

Flower's mouth was agape. Strife had not even seen her. Do you like being ignored, little one? Of course you don't... you are vain, just like I am... isn't it a delicious sin?

He drew his blade. Much improved, over the years, it was. Still so ridiculously large... bulk instead of elegance. But he _was_ the sword, as I had so foolishly learned. So I studied it carefully, taking in every detail of it. There were surprises hidden within it, if one could see the way they were latched in there. Magnificent in its efficiency... terrible in its bulk. Why couldn't he use simple weapons?

Fool.

"Cloud, hold on." Flower. Do you still hold onto him like all the other pathetic and grasping women? Do you not realize he has forgotten you as a person... that you only remain as a symbol? That you are _mine_ because that is what you always have been?

"Nice trick, Sephiroth, she looks just like her. I didn't know you were so... decadent." Flower's eyes were nearly aqua with such a statement. So much anger, so much anger... would you like to kill him for me, little one?

"Did I mean _nothing_ to you Cloud?" Whispers instead of shouts. Cold blue glares... why yes, her eyes were simply livid with her anger. It was then that she tossed the coat to me... Valentine didn't even flinch. Focus, Flower, focus.

This would make for such a nice dramatic battle. I would have to thank her later.

"Sephiroth. Do you concede, now? Or will we have to beat it out of you?" Strife had gained such a steady edge to his voice... maybe not so bad a copy after all. Not that _I_ would tell him that.

"Psycho! You listening?" The female again. Short little thing, long hair bunned up in a Wutain fashion. Ugh, Wutes. Such pathetic creatures... they would run themselves through with their own swords far more than we ever did.

"Please, shut it up. It gives me a headache," coat, hair looks nice, now where was that sword, "And I will take Strife, if you do not mind. I'll leave you others to my triad." Right on cue. I really liked these kids... they were ever so useful. It was a good day to be God.

Flower handed me the sword. Good little consort. She armed herself and with a feral growl, started it, launching at Valentine. They did have an agreement.

When my sword found Strife's... I suddenly remembered what I wanted to do once I had properly punished him. Once he was gone.

I was going to leave this Planet.

* * *

AN: This has been sitting on my harddrive for a while. Getting married and running this massive RP hath made me forget. I'm gonna end this soon... because I can. Sephiroth is such a little punk. Messes with my head. 


End file.
